


Hearts of Kyber

by rcmsw



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Torture, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rcmsw/pseuds/rcmsw
Summary: The bright beam of light.The mass of a planet on its wake.The burning, the heat. It came from all around her, and then it seemed to come from within. From her chest, a scalding heat.And through it all, his arms wrapped around her.Jyn and Cassian survive Scarif, just not together.





	1. Sweet Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote out one of the millions of ideas I play out in my head. Congrats Rogue One and rebelcaptain, you've successfully brought me to a new level of obsession and into the contributing category of a fandom.  
> This will be at least a fix-it of sorts, I honestly haven't decided yet who all is going to make it. I love them all so we might just say screw logic and make it work.  
> It's drawn out angst, and I apologize, but would it be rebelcaptain without some suffering?  
> Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

The bright beam of light. 

The mass of a planet on its wake. 

The burning, the heat. It came from all around her, and then it seemed to come from within. From her chest, a scalding heat. 

And through it all, his arms wrapped around her. His head burrowed in her shoulder. She wasn’t alone, he had staid, he was with her. Holding to one another, together, as the end came, as the light seemed to burst through them and the darkness surrounded. 

  
________

 

The next thing she feels is cold.

 

Jyn keeps her eyes closed as she tries to take in her surroundings. An old habit, something she learned from Saw, to always be a step ahead. 

Know your surrounding, know your situation, be ready to fight. 

It’s a useless trick now, she remembers. There is no longer a surrounding. The blast from the Death Star destroyed the entire base, and her and Cassian with it. She knows it, she felt it. 

Still, she opens her eyes. 

She’s sprawled on a metal bench, cold below her back, staring up at a gray industrial ceiling. She’s in small room, with metal walls and one door that doesn’t seem to open from this side. 

Jyn hadn’t spent much time in the rebel base on Yavin IV, or any rebel base for that matter, but she’s sure she hadn't seen any rooms like this. Besides, she hopes she’d earned enough trust from the rebels that she wouldn’t have been put in a room like this. At least not alone. 

(He wouldn’t have left her alone now.)

And they would have at least provided some medical attention, she thinks as she once again begins to feel the pain shooting through her body. The scalding is still there at her chest, as hot as during the blast, though the rest of her body feels the comparatively dull, though still burning pain of hours-old injuries. 

Death, heaven, the force, whatever it was isn’t supposed to hurt like this. 

That leaves her only two options - either she is dead, killed by the blast and now waking to some kind of hell. Or she somehow, she couldn’t think of a way, survived the blast, only to be then captured by the Empire. 

She isn’t sure which option is worse. 

 

Dead would be better, she thinks, dead would mean the plans were safe and her mission complete. If the Empire saved her and brought her back to some base or ship, it meant they wanted something from her. 

Knowledge, knowledge of what had been taken and why. Knowledge they would extract through any means necessary. Means she might not be able to withstand. 

Yes, dead is better she told herself. 

Yet when the door opens to reveal an Imperial officer - not the man in white who was the only possible facilitator for her hell - Jyn feels a wave of relief. 

Captured meant she survived, and if  _ she _ survived…

She could almost feel it again, the weight of his arms around her. They were side by side, together all the way. She had thought they were meeting their end together, but if she hadn’t met hers, how could his fate be any different. 

 

She was alive then. The confirmation should make her think about practical things, the things she was trained to think about - how to escape, how to protect the plans they stole. She should be thinking about how to continue surviving. 

But all she can think is, is she the only one, the only survivor. 

All she can think is Cassian. 


	2. Marks to Prove It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could be here, in one of the rooms she was led by. He could be going through the same thought right now, working out a strategy. He could be in worse shape than her.

The officer and two storm troopers lead her down a hallway. No windows give a glimpse of what planet, if any, she is on. She feels as though she stands on steady ground, a base not a ship, but she knows better than to assume.  
The hallway gives no distinguishing features. Most Imperial bases look the same. They weren’t exactly the creative type. 

Through the pain of each step, her hands itch and legs burn as a voice inside her head screams at her to run, fight, escape.  
It’s her first instinct, but she has to be smarter than that. She has no idea where she is or how large the base is. Though she is confident should could handle the three men escorting her, she has no idea how many others man this station.  
More importantly, she still didn’t know if she is alone.  
He could be here, in one of the rooms she was led by. He could be going through the same thought right now, working out a strategy. He could be in worse shape than her, he was on the beach. A blaster wound and a several story fall was bad enough, then add in the burning and breaks she had from the blast and he couldn’t be doing well. He would need more time, and she could buy it for him.  
A part of her, an old part, knows it is dangerous to think this way when he is more than likely gone. But the new Jyn, the one who has a home, the one people stuck around for, she isn’t leaving without him. 

She knows that means she’ll have to play this carefully. She doesn’t want to give herself away. Currently, she has no idea how much her captors knew about her role in the attack on Scarif. For all they know she could be a foot soldier, an overeager new rebel who joined the mission with no knowledge of its details.  
She knows that won’t save her life, but it could save the mission.  
Jyn could guess where she is being led to down this imposing hallway. Whatever her rank may be, the empire wouldn’t waste a potential source of knowledge. She would have to learn more from this “interrogation” session than her torturers would. 

She does her best not to focus on their actions, on the orb that hovered above delivering fresh pain to her already battered body.  
Instead she focuses intently on the questions they ask. Trying to discover what they know from what they don’t. They are prying, but simple. She was right to be cautious, they don’t know who she is.  
It isn’t until the sphere leaves, and the troopers are updating the officer that she finally feels pain.  
“Take her back to her cell for now, but we’re not done with her,” he said. “She’s the only survivor.”

_______

 

The only survivor.  
The only survivor.  
The only survivor. 

The words ripped through her, tearing her apart more than the Imperial efforts had.  
No other survivors. No Cassian.  
They had not faced it together then. What a cruel joke was that. To have a moment of peace, knowing they had completed their mission, knowing they weren’t alone. Then to have it ripped away. To know he had faced his death alone, while she now has to face her survival without him.  
No one is with her, she is alone again.


	3. Nature of the Experiment

She makes several escape attempts in the beginning.  
Though her cell is secure, they make the mistake of transferring her from it to the interrogation room, never supplying enough guards.  
The first is a waste, she knows it. There was a time before when she wouldn’t have even thought to try it.  
Still, she takes down the two guards and begins to check the other cells, just in case. But she finds no Cassian, wry smile on his face as the cell door opens. No Chirrut ready for her entrance. Bodhi is not there in the corner of his cell, no Baze pounding on the doors to get to Chirrut.  
A waste, and yet she had to know. She is alone.  
That could make getting away easier, simpler. But she feels no relief at the discovery. 

She should try again immediately, but she can’t quite bring herself to do it. She spends a night, or some sort of unmeasurable amount of time, imaging a different outcome. From the simple relief of finding Cassian in the cell beside her, to the far-fetched notion that they all had somehow made it. She allows herself these moments of weakness, of denial, of grief. She feels the loss, and lets her imagination work to numb it.  
Then she tries again. 

The next attempts are just as futile. She knew her chances of getting out were slim, and the next attempt shows her she was right. She tries once more, hoping to get lucky.  
She doesn’t.  
Then she tries again, hoping for a different kind of luck.  
She strikes down troopers, ensuring a kill, hoping to get an equal response. But each blast that hits her is a stun, each whack on the head merely rendering her unconscious, leaving her to wake once again in the cell, to make the trip down the ominous hallway once more.  
She can’t get herself out, and she can’t get them to take her out. She’s not sure when she started hoping more for the latter more than the first.  
The interrogations continue, the pain gets somehow worse and she begins to fear for what she might say.  
She needn’t worry.  
After a time, the questions stop. The pain doesn’t.


	4. Wolf Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn intimidates the hell out of stormtroopers, even if she is their captive.

She scares them. They’d never admit it, not even to themselves.  
Their own lives are not supposed to be their concern, only the life of the Empire. But she makes them scared for their lives.  
Even in chains, her wild green eyes and cold stare set them on edge. She’s their prisoner, and yet she’s managed to come after so many of them. Her screams echo differently than the others. There’s pain, but a promise as well. A promise that she will give back what she gets. To them.  
It’s her desperation. She has lost it all, but that only means she has nothing more to lose.  
They’re not supposed to question the officers’ methods. They never have before. But they can’t help but wonder why the survivor of the mission to get the Death Star plans is still alive when the Death Star is gone.  
She couldn’t last much longer, they know. Or thought they did. The interrogations are intense, and her escape attempts have only added to her wounds. Though they should have killed her, the attempts, but she was not to be killed. She would be though, in the end. She had to be. And yet, the blast from the Death Star had to have killed her. And it didn’t. They didn’t know why, didn’t ask why. To acknowledge such a thing would be treason The Death Star had been the Imperials’ perfect weapon. It destroyed everything. Everything except her.  
That might have been part of the fear, that she shouldn’t have been here in the first place, shouldn’t be alive at all. She was living stardust, the heart of a planet destroyed but still beating.  
They’d never cared about the lives of prisoners before, whether they lived or died. But they wished for her death, for their own relief.


	5. All This Could Be Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His hair is longer, beard fuller, but he smiles as he sees her.  
> She feels lighter, the pain in her body numbing as she crosses the room, immediately pulled in by his orbit.  
> He’s beside her in a few short strides, supporting her weight with his arms wrapped around her.  
> “Jyn.”  
> Her name is a whisper of breath on her face as she can only stare at him in return.

It's in her weakest moment, when she’s sure it's all almost over, when they come for her.  
Jyn hears the commotion, boots running down metal halls, blaster fire in the distance. That could mean only one thing - rebels, her rebels, her rebel.  
The thought allows her to push herself up off the cell bench.  
How silly she was not to think of it before. Just because he wasn't here didn’t mean he was dead.  
The doors open to troopers, ready to escort her from the vulnerable prison wing to a different location. They really never learn.  
It’s much harder to overpower them now, after all this time, but she manages.  
She makes her way through the base, stolen blaster in hand. She doesn’t come across any more troopers, they’re all in the hangar surrounding the commotion.  
Jyn hears the sound of a shuffle as she rounds the corner near the ship bay. She turns and fires, taking down a trooper as he was aiming for his own shot. The trooper falls, and she sees him.  
His hair is longer, beard fuller, but he smiles as he sees her.  
She feels lighter, the pain in her body numbing as she crosses the room, immediately pulled in by his orbit.  
He’s beside her in a few short strides, supporting her weight with his arms wrapped around her.  
“Jyn.”  
Her name is a whisper of breath on her face as she can only stare at him in return.

They move together, Cassian supporting Jyn the way she had supported him on the beach. Each step brings them closer to a ship, and Jyn realizes he has not come alone. 

“Good to see you again little sister,” Baze calls as he shoots down a trooper gunning for Chirrut. The two circle around Jyn and Cassian, covering them as Cassian hauls her to the ship, his arms still tight around her, chin brushing against her forehead.  
She smiles as the pilot turns around, relief and concern warring on Bodhi’s face as his wide eyes take in her condition. Cassian sets her gently on the bench of the ship, leaning over her.  
“Let’s move,” Cassian tells Bodhi. The pilot nods and smiles as he guides the ship away from the base, dodging final troopers attempts to stop them, and into light speed.  
The escape is relatively easy. 

That’s when she starts to realize it. The little tugs at the back of her mind, memories and voices trying to pull at the corners of this moment. She tries to ignore them, push them away. But she struggles.  
Cassian sees her grimace, and tries to address her physical wounds. Chirrut, seeing it for what it is, looks almost at her with a comforting smile on his face.  
“This is not a dream,” he tells her.  
She scoffs, but it turns into a laugh.  
“You always say that,” she says. But maybe this time…  
Cassian squeezes her hand, and leans in closer her, their foreheads brushing lightly.  
“Jyn,” he says, his breath warm on her face, body hovering against her, “We’re going home.”  
Dammit.  
“You just had to say that.”  
She takes one last look around the ship, at Rogue One. Chirrut and Baze are leaning against each other in the corner. Bodhi is in the pilot seat, a look of fraternal concern filling his eyes, as though their independent relationships with her father, their time on Scarif, had bonded them as true siblings.  
At last, she takes a final look at Cassian. He smiles, lighter than she's ever seen before, his thumb softly rubbing her cheek. His look promises her a future, home, asks her to stay.  
She tries. 

 

She opens her eyes to the same metal ceiling, and the cool bench below her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took me five chapters to get a two-sided conversation. Haha what's dialogue?  
> Thanks for sticking with me. This will be updated soon.


	6. It's not over yet

When Jyn hears the commotion this time, she almost doesn’t move.

 

She’s been through this too many times. It’s a comfort at first, but it always leaves her with a striking hole, a fresh pain. But her short time with Rogue One taught her to hope again, and it's a lesson she won’t abandon now, even if they’re all gone.  
So she keeps moving towards the commotion, towards what she pretends is her Rogue One family.

  
She can picture it. Bodhi at the ship, ready for a quick departure as soon as they get her. Chirrut walking calming towards the advancing troops, a chant on his lips as he takes them down easily. Baze close behind, grumbling as he shoots down enemies that get too close to Chirrut for his comfort.  
And Cassian. Cassian in the middle of it, giving orders and shooting down troopers with sharp accuracy. Cassian taking off towards the prison block, towards her. Coming back for her, as he had again and again, on Jedha as the world was crumbling, on Eadu when the rain fell and her papa died, on Scarif when his body was broken by his fall.

  
She focuses on this picture of events, forcing the facts out of her mind. The fact that if it were her friends, they would already be by her side. Chirrut would have felt her presence, or Cassian would have known, would have been there supporting her weight as she did his on Scarif. The fact that nobody has any idea she was here, any reason to believe she is alive. The fact that the blaster sounds are in no way getting closer to her. She obviously isn’t the intent of the mission.  
And most importantly, she ignores the fact that her friends are dead. That they had given their lives for this mission on Scarif, as she had intended to give hers.

  
She ignores all this because as much as Jyn wants to survive - every atom in her being, every bit of training and life experience gives her that desire - as badly as she wants to keep fighting for her life, for the galaxy, for the cause she has finally taken as her own, it is the thought of her friends, their support, that keep her moving in this moment. She needs that thought, a motivation more powerful and personal than the wider idea of the rebellion, to keep her broken and bruised body moving forward. The image of them fighting for her allows her to keep fighting for herself.

  
Her way to the source of action is relatively clear, the troopers are all otherwise occupied. The buzz of the battle begins to clear, and Jyn knows she’s close as she distinguishes particular sounds, voices shouting orders and comms beeping. As she nears the ship bay, she hears a shuffle, and rounds the corner with her stolen blaster in hand. She turns and fires, taking down a trooper as he was setting up his own shot. The trooper falls, and she sees his target.

  
It is not Cassian, looking up at her as the trooper above him falls from her shot. It’s not his face that meets her eyes with confusion and then awe. She does not get to see his lined face soften as he takes her in, alive and in front of him.

  
Instead it’s a face she does not know, looking at her with alarm and distrust. But the face pokes out of a rebellion uniform, and that will have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated chapter titles with songs from Jyn's Spotify playlist because if I'm going to keep writing this many little chapters I don't want to come up with my own titles.   
> I finally have a chance to go buy Rogue One this weekend, so I’ll be rewatching that and will likely update again soon. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, and though I’ve been fully immersed in tumblr content, I’m worried my writing might be drifting a little out of character. So a refresher before anything new.


	7. When My Time Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah finally! Sorry this update took so long. I ended up participating in Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week, and the make up weekend, and that took up most of my writing time. Thanks for sticking with it!
> 
> I hope you don't expect this to be a happy reunion chapter. I'm still only capable of writing feels with this fic. So I introduce Angst Part II: The Cassian Andor story.

The bright beam of light.   
The mass of a planet on its wake.   
The burning, the heat. It came from all around him, and then it seemed to radiate from her. 

 

Their job is done. He doesn’t know if anyone is listening, but he trusts in her faith. He feels a peace to the moment. She is here and that is enough. 

He pulls her close, finding the strength to hold her tightly. 

As the horizon bursts with light and the heat rushes to envelop them, panic rises in him. For the first time in many years, he feels his own wants. 

He wants this woman in his arms, strong and stubborn Jyn. He wants to know her truly, love her the way he thinks he could. He wants a future, the way any 26-year old would.   
In that last moment, Cassian finds a new purpose to the rebellion, one that goes beyond the greater good, the higher cause of freedom and peace. He wants to have a life for himself in the after, wants to find a place in the peace. 

He always thought he’d die for the rebellion, but now he wants to live. But he won’t have the chance. 

He grips her tighter, as the end comes, as the light seems to burst through them and the darkness surrounds them both.

 

\----

 

When he wakes, the first thing he thinks about is Jyn. 

It doesn’t surprise him, after the last few days. She’s dominated his thinking since Jedha.

He couldn’t explain why at first. It wasn’t for the sake of the mission, or out of pity for her. It wasn’t until Eadu, when he saw her eyes in her father’s face, that he began to understand the feeling. It manifested itself more clearly back on Yavin IV as she leaned up to him, face softer than he’d seen before and eyes full of trust and understanding. 

With her bright green eyes on him, her body gravitating towards him, how could he say anything but “Welcome home.” How could he do anything but tell her he wasn’t going anywhere and she should get used to it. Rely on it. 

He’d done everything he could on Scarif, to uphold that promise, sticking by her side, leaving her only briefly when he fell before clawing back to her. He was by her side as the transmission sent, pulled her back to him away from the Imperial officer. He staid with her to the beach, held her tight as the ray came down. 

And yet when he opens his eyes, in what he knows is the Yavin IV med bay (he’s spent some time here), she is not there. 

He hadn’t meant to, hadn't wanted to, he clung so tightly to her he had thought there was no way he could have, but he had left her. 

Instead it's Bodhi who is there when Cassian wakes. He’s in his own hospital standards, scars and bacta lining his body. Cassian recognizes the widespread wounds as shrapnel. His pilot managed to survive a grenade blast. 

Cassian’s damp from what he assumes is a bacta tank, skin feeling taut and sensitive as it’s newly healed, but pain still radiates from his body. His leg and chest seem to be the main culprit. 

He’s able to turn to the pilot, move his lips.

“Jyn,” its soft, lilting, a question. 

Guilt crosses Bodhi’s face, his large eyes showing every facet of his emotions. The man runs his hand across his forehead, pulls his goggles off and looks down. 

“I got as many people on the ship as I could. I tried to go back for you two before the blast, but I had to turn back,” he said softly. “We did a quick sweep of the surface after the blast died down. That’s when we found you. But Jyn.. she…” he sighs. “I couldn’t find her.” 

It’s a familiar ache that hits him, but an old one. One he never thought he’d feel again until Kay had locked the vault doors and said one final goodbye. 

He had been careful not to get too close to people for this very reason - made his only friend a droid because he knew he’d die long before Kay did. And yet, he had to feel that loss after all, of his friend. 

And now he was feeling it all over again, in such a short time, at the loss of Jyn. The loss of everything she had come to be to him, and everything she might have been.


	8. Who Remembers Your Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Bodhi angst! Still no happiness in sight. I'm sorry, I really am.

Part of Bodhi didn’t want to be the person to tell Cassian, but after everything they’ve been through together in just a few short days, it seemed right. Jyn, and her loss, the grief of it, belonged to him and Cassian. Her sacrifice was for the rebellion, but it didn’t know her. It was these two men, him and the Captain, who would truly feel the loss. 

At his mangled words of explanation, a poor attempt to justify his failure to save her, Cassian shows more emotion than Bodhi has ever seen. His whole face falls. Bodhi thought grief would age a person, but at the news of her death, Cassian looks like just a boy.

It's in the moments later, as his intelligence mask comes back up, that he seems to age another ten years. That’s when Bodhi realizes it's the burying of emotion - the need to push on, disconnect, that ages a person. 

Bodhi lets the weight of the guilt roll over him. He had saved others, he should have been able to save her too. They weren’t friends, they hadn’t had that sort of time. But Jyn had believed him, stood by him while he spoke to the council. She had wanted to destroy the Death Star, to fight for what she knew in her heart to be right. She didn’t deserve to die. 

He thinks of Jyn pulling him into the ship as his home world crumbled around him, of her wide eyes and eager response as she asked him about Galen, her smile as he dubbed them all Rogue One. Galen had talked about his star-eyed daughter a few times, only to him. Each time it was strained, like one wrong word would send Galen over the edge. He’d seen the same practiced restraint in Jyn, like the power of love and potential for loss was too much to allow in. But in time they had both let him in. And he had let them both down. 

He wonders how old he looks.


	9. Honey I Been Thinking About You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took a little longer to post. I ended up writing later chapters and having a hard time coming back to this. That means that the next few updates will be soon though! I’m planning on three more chapters after this and then possibly an epilogue of some sort. 
> 
>  
> 
> Ok so the details and continuity in this chapter and the next couple ones might not exactly match up with canon. I’ve done my research, and according to wookieepedia the rebellion evacuates Yavin IV basically immediately after the destruction of the Death Star. But the Battle of Hoth takes place three years later, and at that point Echo Base has only been up and running for about a month or so. I haven’t been able to find anything about where they were in between these two, so I made the conclusion that they didn’t have one main base, but were instead spread out at smaller bases and larger ships throughout the galaxy while they worked to find and then set up Echo Base. I’m sorry if that’s incorrect.

The blows don’t stop.

General Draven comes to see Cassian shortly after he wakes. His face is graver than usual, and Cassian realizes he might actually receive formal punishment for disregarding orders. Draven, though, will take an Alliance victory however he can get it. 

Instead the purpose of his superior’s visit is worse than Cassian could have imagined. 

“The plans were delivered to Princess Leia of Alderaan and her ship, but it was attacked by Darth Vader and they are now both considered a total loss,” Draven tells Cassian, not bothering to soften the blow. Cassian appreciates that. 

They both ignore the increased beeping of the monitor next to him. Cassian pushes down the anger and dread that rises in him, sticky hands gripping the side of his hospital bed. He tries to focus on the facts, the cards at play. His mind searches for other options, snippets of old intel that could lead to a new plan of action. If he does that, he can fight off his own emotion. Categorizing everything he knows keeps him from replaying the horror of Scarif, the sounds of explosions and blaster fire, the smoke of crashed X-wings, the burn of the blast. If the plans were gone, all of that was for nothing. And it couldn’t be. His comrades’ death, Jyn’s sacrifice couldn’t be for nothing. He owed them all, her especially, that much. 

“What’s the next steps,” he finally asks, when he trusts his voice to be level. 

“We are exploring our options,” Draven says tightly, leaving no room for a follow up question. 

Which means of course that they have no plan. 

Lucky for them, someone else does. 

 

Cassian’s released from the med bay in time for the commotion. A ragged rundown ship lands on Yavin IV, making the piece-meal Alliance transports look like top-line material. In it are the new heroes of the rebellion, the Princess who carries the plans and the cocky smuggler and youthful farm boy that saved them both. 

From there it’s a flurry of activity. Cassian talks his way back into active duty, taking up his place in the council room as all of the Alliance’s resources focus on the Death Star plans. The flaw is there of course, just like Galen, like Jyn, had said it would be. It’s small but effective. The chances of hitting it are low, but he has faith. He listens confidently as Luke Skywalker lines up his shot. He’s less concerned than the others when the systems shows the pilot shuts off his targeting computer. It’s stupid of course, but he thinks of Chirrut, and knows there is more than one way to see. The shot finds its mark, and the Death Star explodes. 

The base erupts around him. He smiles, he’s not sure if it’s more out of relief or joy, and claps the back of a fellow officer. Though the pain of the last several days still lingers, Cassian knows this is a moment to celebrate. 

He thinks of Jyn, of how she’d feel in this moment. Would it be an absolution? Her father’s legacy no longer on her shoulders. Though it was more than that to her, Cassian knew that. Scarif was her mission, not her father’s. He wonders what sort of effect the success of it would have on her. Would she have smiled at him like she did after she transmitted the plans on Scarif, that soft beaming smile that squeezed his heart as her hand squeezed his arm. Would she have held him again, not because he needed her to support him this time but because they wanted to be in each other’s arms. Would she laugh, cry, sing, shout. 

It’s just one more thing he’ll never know about her. 

\-------

The Alliance evacuates quickly after the Battle of Yavin IV. Without a new base established, they disperse among the stars. 

Bodhi’s officially joined the X-wing Rogue Squadron, the one that bears his call sign. Most of them are split up on other tasks now, searching for a main base and scouting out new territory. 

Cassian falls back into his old routine. These days it’s mainly recruitment. The Death Star destruction was a decisive victory, but the Alliance needs to continue to build its resources if it’s going to dole out another loss to the Empire. He flies all over the galaxy, his transport ship too quiet now that he’s alone. Though Kay’s remarks were sometimes grating, he’d gladly welcome them now. 

The work weighs on him more than it used to. Gravity seems to have a sharper hold on him these days, no matter what planet he’s on. His limbs are heavy, his steps worn. He’s exhausted in a way he never would have admitted before. He prefers it that way. The barrage of names, possible recruits and potential allies, race through his mind and block out any other thoughts. 

The more details he has to focus on, the less his mind will wander to Jyn. That’s the idea anyway. It doesn’t always work. 

She’s always there, at the edge of his thoughts, circling the outskirts no matter how fixated he is on a mission. Sometimes she sneaks in, light on her toes, stealthy and quiet. She slips into his thoughts before he has a chance to fight her off. He hears her telling him to trust her with his blaster in her hand. He sees her rising up on her toes to meet him in the hangar bay on Yavin IV. He feels her arms tight around him supporting his weight as they sink into the sand. Other times she storms in, no chance at a fight, and grabs hold of his mind and demands to be felt. She yells up at him drenched from the rains of Eadu with her face tight to hide the pain she’s feeling. His name wrenches from her lips as he falls, and for a moment he worries she’ll follow him. She glares at the Imperial officer, face murderous as she shouts that he’s lost despite the blaster he points at her chest. Her touch burns his skin in the dark of the elevator, her eyes boring into his own full of a future that could have been. Should have been.

He tries hard not to think about that last one. About her here now with the rebellion, with him. Where she belongs. He’s forced into it, one day, when he and Bodhi have a rare overlay on the same base. 

The two men meet in the hangar of the small rebel outpost and Cassian helps Bodhi patch up his ship, refusing to be idle as long as he can help it. The pilot keeps his ride in good condition though, so they quickly run out of distractions. Instead they find themselves sprawling on abandoned cargo boxes staring out at the giant yellow moon that stretches its way across the sky. It's as bright as a sun, casting a strange luminous glow across the planet it circles. 

Bodhi sighs, and Cassian realizes the man’s been quiet for longer than he’s ever heard. Cassian turns to him, sees his head slouched into the orange fabric of his flightsuit. He had kept his Imperial one, still had it somewhere, Cassian knew. He wore it for a while as a reminder that he volunteered to be a part of the Empire, until one day Cassian reminded him that he volunteered for the rebellion too. Bodhi meets his eyes but he’s still quiet. He’s usually always rambling on, so Cassian figures the silence is for his benefit. He smiles at his pilot, a genuine one, and raises his eyebrows in a question. 

Bodhi jumps at the invitation, words falling out of his mouth before he has time to second guess them. 

“Do you think she’d be here, now, if she had the chance?” he asks Cassian, eyes wide, searching, “Jyn, I mean. Would she have stayed with us? Or would she have run off. I mean, I wouldn’t blame her but I wonder…”

“She’d be here,” Cassian responds, voice certain. He’s wondered about it himself before, but he has no doubt that she would have stayed. 

He remembers her face back on Yavin IV as she spoke to the council. He’d stood across from her, the hologram of the Death Star framing her face in a cold blue light. The rumors of the planet destroyer had both chilled and thrilled him, and now she was there at the center of it. She was blunt in her retelling of the events, even sarcastic at times. He could see clearly that she hadn’t forgiven the Alliance for its actions, but something in the look of her eyes told him she had resigned herself to them, chosen to align herself with them anyways. They weren’t going to return the favor, he realized. When she finished speaking the room was quiet, unwavered by her words. Jyn’s face showed the disappointment he felt. He had known better of course, but he had still hoped. 

Councilors began talking all at once, giving excuses to wait or flee. That was it then, Cassian knew. But then it wasn’t. Because Jyn was stepping forward again, her eyes blazing with a fire that burned through the cool blue of the Death Star holo. She spoke of her father, of his sacrifice, but it was the words that came next that latched onto Cassian. 

“What chance do we have,” she exclaimed. “The question is what choice!”

It was the we that stuck with him now. She wasn’t just telling the Alliance not to turn its back, she was telling herself. She had made a choice - she had chosen to fight. 

“She wasn’t giving up anymore,” Cassian finally tells Bodhi. 

The pilot grins fondly, and Cassian wonders what memory of Jyn is flashing through his mind. His own view of her at the council, her protective stance between him and the rebel soldiers after his interview or maybe her hand gripping her necklace as they waited for clearance on Scarif. 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Bodhi agrees. His face turns wistful, aware of the empty space in the hangar where she should be. “She would have been extraordinary.” 

She already was, Cassian thinks. 

\-----

He’s sent on an undercover op not long after that. The Empire has had time now to recuperate, and rumors have spread that they’re looking for Skywalker and the next rebel base. Cassian goes in under one of his old Imperial officer aliases, trying to find out what they may already know. The mission drags out, and he loses himself in it. Though Jyn is still at the edge of his thoughts, buried deeper but still managing to claw her way to him.


	10. Steady, as she goes

When she first wakes, Jyn worries she dreamed again. But though the air is cold, the bed below her is soft and warm. A real cot, not a prisoner’s bench. 

 

She opens her eyes not to the gray metal of a cell but to the blinding white of a med bay. She shoots up then, heart pounding, breath short, afraid the scene will slip from her grasp. The movement sends a sharp pain stinging down her body and flashes black spots across her vision. When she blinks them back, the room is still there, bright and unthreatening. The frantic beeping of the machine she’s connected to draws a medical droid to her. 

 

“You need to return your heart rate to a more suitable level,” it orders, its mechanical voice softer, smoother than most droids. She figures it’s supposed to be comforting. It’s not. 

 

“What happened?” she gasps. 

 

“You have been severely injured,” it tells her.  “You were submerged in bacta for 48 hours. It has increased your odds of survival immensely, though your current heart rate is lowering those odds.” 

 

Jyn scoffs at that, remembering the last time a droid lectured her about odds. 

 

“I’ll take it from here, GH,” a human medic shoos the droid away. Her voice is actually comforting. Seeing her soft expression and the red Alliance insignia on her coat, Jyn sinks back into the bed, the tension seeping from her body as exhaustion replaces it. She does not recognize the medic, but that’s better, no chance of this being a dream. 

 

“You were found at an Imperial base,” the medic answers her earlier question to the droid. “Your injuries were extensive but you’ve recovered well here.”

 

As she checks her over, the medic tells Jyn that here is a small, nameless moon in the Outer Rim that the Alliance is using as a medical base for those with more extensive injuries. Jyn looks around, takes in the stark emptiness of the bay. It’s hardly surprising. Extensive injuries don’t typically make it off a battlefield. 

 

“You’re Jyn Erso,” she flinches at her name, loud in the echoing quiet of the med bay. The sound is foreign, an immeasurable amount of time has passed since she last heard it. And then it was from his lips, in a breath of revery that could never be matched. A part of her wishes she’d never hear it again. “You were on Scarif,” the medic continues, it’s not quite a question. Jyn focuses on her breath as she squeezes her nails into the palm of her hands, steeling herself for pestering or praise, she’s not sure which would wound her more. 

 

“I’m sorry,” the medic says simply. “I know there were a lot of losses.” 

 

It’s sincere, and for some reason it dregs up a well of emotion in Jyn. She swallows hard, trying to bite back the loss that threatens to overflow. It had been easier to numb the pain of it when she had her own survival to focus on. But now, when she knows she is safe, Jyn has nothing left to distract her. The medic rests a hand on her forearm with a soft smile, then leaves the room. With no reason left to control it, Jyn lets the grief swallow her. 

 

\--------

 

The first familiar face she sees is Mon Mothma’s. The chancellor comes to visit her in the med bay. According to Safa, Jyn’s new medic friend, Mothma made the stop at the small base just for her. 

 

Jyn thinks she’s going to give her a speech, expounding on her sacrifice, lamenting that the rebellion had not been able to rescue her sooner. As if they ever would have. Part of Jyn wants her to. It’d give her somewhere to direct her anger. But like the last time they spoke, Mothma surprises her. 

 

“I’m sorry for the pain you’ve been through, Jyn Erso. I wish I could tell you we would have stopped it sooner.” The guilt and sadness is clear on the woman’s face, but she makes no motion to deflect it. Instead she holds Jyn’s gaze. “You did not deserve this.” 

 

Jyn keeps her face tight, but nods. 

 

“The details of the Battle of Scarif are technically classified, but as you essentially led it, if you have any questions I can -” 

 

“No,” Jyn’s voice is firm, though her hands shake. She knows enough. She doesn’t need details. Doesn’t need to know exactly how many soldiers died. How many she left behind. 

 

“Very well,” Mothma concedes, with understanding. Jyn thinks there are probably many details Mothma wishes she herself could forget. “Just know that it was a success. The Death Star is gone. And the Rebellion is eternally grateful for the work of Rogue One. They will not be forgotten.”

 

Jyn had guessed as much about the fate of the Death Star. Had at least had hope that with their part of the mission successful, the rest would have fallen into place. Still hearing the words, from the mouth of someone who has no reason to lie about them, strikes her. The knowledge sinks into her bones, lifting a small piece of the weight that’s been on her shoulders for so long. It was a load that had brought her to her knees back on Jedha, and now she was finally absolved of it. Her father’s legacy was secure, his Death Star was dust. If so many had to die, Cassian and Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut, at least she could be assured it was not in vain. Their sacrifices had meant something in the grand scheme of it all, this war. 

 

Mothma looks away, giving Jyn a moment with the news. When she turns back her face is uncertain, a rare feature for the normally composed and assured woman. 

 

“My original promise of freedom still stands. You certainly held up your end of the bargain. If you wish, I’ll ensure transport for you to a planet of your choice,” Her voice trails off, as if she has more she wishes to say. 

 

“Or?” Jyn prompts. 

 

“Or I’d like to extend a commission to you, as a sergeant in our ranks. Your service would be immensely valuable to the rebellion,” The intensity is back on her face. “I realize you’ve already given more than we could possibly ask of you, but the fight is not over yet.” 

 

Jyn doesn’t have to consider it, not really. Though her history with the Alliance is complicated, her resentment, left unstoked, has burned away. She had fought beside its soldiers, led them and they had followed her with dedication. They had died for her cause, for she knew now it was the same as their own. She didn’t agree with all the actions of the Alliance, but they worked towards a necessary end. Sacrifices of all kind had to be made in war, Jyn understood that. 

 

“I accept,” Jyn answers, because how could she do anything else. She’d denied her role in this rebellion once, she knew she could do it no longer. 

 

Mothma orders her to take a few more days to rest, and then she’ll report for duty under a general whose name she’s never heard. Not intelligence with Draven then, she’s grateful for that. She doesn’t want to work under the man who gave her father’s assassination orders, and she’s not sure if she could handle the constant reminder of Cassian. 

 

Jyn manages to spend one more day in bed before she becomes too restless. Now that she has a path set, she is ready to move. She reports early, but her general doesn’t hesitate to throw her back into the mix. They have her working in recruitment and scouting, asking her to draw on her old contacts from her days with Saw to bring more men and resources to the Alliance. The mood throughout the galaxy is different now, and people are more willing to fight. The Battle of Scarif and Yavin IV proved the Alliance was a real threat to the Empire, and a real hope for everyone else. It’s easier now, to pull more people into the fold. She’s not one for big speeches, but she’s honest and passionate. That’s typically enough. 

Time on any base is rare for her and she spends most of her days flying between trading posts and bustling cities. She doesn’t mind. It’s strange sometimes being on base. Though it's been a couple months, the Battle of Scarif is still on the minds and mouths of most soldiers, made all the more interesting by the presence of one of the actual fighters. She hears so many stories about herself, picking up snippets in ship hangars and mess halls. 

 

“That’s Jyn Erso, the hero of Scarif,” a X-wing pilot whispers to her friend as they pass Jyn in the hallway. “She stole the Death Star plans.” 

“As she should have. It was her father who built it in the first place,” the other pilot responds.

“That’s not her fault,” her friend snaps, hitting her arm. 

 

“It was a kriffin’ suicide mission, and she knew it,” a comm tech mutters at a table in the mess hall. “With all her history, it’s not like she had another path.” 

“Clearly she does. The girl must have the Force on her side, like Skywalker did,” another replies. 

 

She shakes her head at all of them. Jyn wasn’t driven by the thought of glory. She hadn’t gone to Scarif wanting to die. She knew the risks of course, but she had no intentions of becoming some sort of martyr for the cause. Instead she had found, or at least allowed herself to once again accept, that this cause was worth dying for. And now, she knew it was a cause worth living for.

 

Even if it meant she was living alone. 

 

They didn’t deserve to die, her rag tag team of heroes on Rogue One. Chirrut with his endless faith in the Force. Baze with his endless faith in Chirrut. Bodhi who despite all his doubts had more courage than anyone she’d known. Kay with his devotion to Cassian and his new cause. And Cassian who had fought so long and so hard. Who had never given up his faith in the rebellion, no matter the loses it took and doled out. 

 

She pictures it sometimes - what it would be like if they had all survived. Flashes of it hit her like a punch to the stomach throughout her days, as she’s at a table full of fellow soldiers sharing war stories, when she’s helping unload a ship in the hangar, as she tries to fall asleep at night in the empty darkness that engulfs her room. 

 

In a crowded mess hall, surrounded by light and laughter, she imagines Bodhi in an orange jumpsuit smiling eagerly among his friends. He grows more sure of himself with each day in the rebellion. That’s what happens when he has the chance to live out what he knows in his heart to be right. 

 

She sees Baze and Chirrut, standing in the hangar giving their goodbyes. They were both strong in combat, but neither were fighters at heart. They would return to the ruins of Jedha maybe, or find a new temple to protect. Baze would lay his hand softly on her shoulder, call her little sister. Chirrut would smile, squeeze her hand and tell her to trust in the Force, knowing he echoed the words of her mother. 

 

Cassian comes to her more often than the others, in the chaos of a mission or the silence of the night. When she closes her eyes, she can almost feel his weight beside her, his arms warm and tight around her. She tucks her face into his chest as he lays his chin at the top of her head. Sometimes he speaks to her, melodic words that don’t mean anything. Sometimes they lay in silence, no need for words between them. 

 

They had all deserved to live. But they hadn't. Only she did. So she lives, and fights, for them. For herself. For the future they all believe in.  

  
  


\---

 

She’s on an inner rim planet recruiting a contact she knows from her time after Saw when she gets a new assignment from base. It’s not in her division, but she’s the closest officer and they need this done fast. It’s an order from Draven himself, a routine extraction of a valuable operative from two planets over. She rendezvouses with the ship crew and watches as they set the course, expecting a simple mission. She should know better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me on this. Two more chapters to go. This next one is written out and just needs some tweaking so it will be up by next weekend at the latest.


	11. Gimme Something Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember all those times I promised you I'd make up for the angst? Well here you go. I hope this is sufficient.

Usually Jyn doesn't enjoy this type of mission, but her weary bones are grateful for the time to breathe. Extractions, like surveillance runs, are boring. She’s done this type of work before with Saw, of course. But with Saw it was always just the first step in what would eventually lead to a battle. Not so with the Alliance. She’s just supposed to find the operative, give the signal and lead him back to the transport. If all goes according to plan, no fighting of any kind will be necessary. She appreciates the security of it. But still, it was boring. 

 

She steps to the side as two young children run by her, their playful shouts mixing with the cacophony of noises in the market. She’s been meandering the place for 20 minutes now, forced to have small talk with the merchants and pretend she’s interested in the various stalls. The city reminds her a bit of Jedha, vibrating with the energy of people going about their daily lives. In reality, the similarities stop with the crowds, but something about the press of people and vibrating sounds remind her of that day with Cassian. Jyn purses her lips and shakes her head slightly, forcing herself to move on from that topic. Right now she needs to stay focused. Make out the operative, give him the signal and get out. Get back to base - back to the real fight. 

 

She scans the crowd casually then, as she makes her way to the next stall, pretending to admire its goods. She sees the blue parka, same color as the scarf the extraction team provided, from the corner of her eye. It’s the only descriptor of the operative they gave her. She waits to turn and look at him until it's natural to do so. 

 

When she does, she’s left reeling. 

 

\--------------

 

Cassian is restless, though he’s careful not to show it. He’s been on this cover for longer than usual, and he’s drained. Though he executed these missions with the same cold elegance he always had, they’re now stale to him, giving not even a momentary thrill. He’s ready, anxious even, to get out. But he knows he has to follow procedure. He looks for his lead, the one that will carry out his extraction. He’s already made his leave from Imperial base, all that remains is a transport back to some random rebel outpost. A fellow officer will be there to lead him to the transport, it’s too risky this deep in Imperial territory to send a message with a location or pick up time. All he knows is to look for a blue scarf. 

 

It flashes into view then, the dark blue in a sea of people, and he knows he has his contact. Her head tilts slightly, just enough for him to see a wisp of brown hair and a flash of pale skin. The scarf shields any of her features, but it’s enough to guess she’s human. 

 

Gloved hands reach up to tighten the scarf around her face, and he knows she’s identified him. It’s casual, appearing to be done without a thought, but it’s the signal for him to follow. And he does.

 

He stays back of course, stopping throughout the market just as she does. He’s not expecting trouble, but it’s best to be cautious. His eyes are never on her for more than a second to double check her path, but in those flashes he can discern something is off with her. Under the billow of her sleeves, her hands flex in and out, just slightly, before tightening into fists as if she’s restraining herself. More than once, he senses she’s going to turn back to look at him full on, but she never does. He knows it’s subtle, that he's only seeing it because he’s looking for it.

 

She could be new, he thinks. But that doesn’t seem right. She carries herself too well. Confident but not overbearing, staying out of the way without being meek, moving perfectly so as not to draw attention to herself. Her fists are the only tell he can see, and even then it’s hardly noticeable. He finds despite her clear apprehension, he’s unconcerned. Something about her presence eases the tension that’s been building in his body for months now. It’s easy to follow her, he hardly even has to look. He’s drawn to her naturally. He can’t quite place why. 

 

His thoughts focus on her more than they need to. These extractions are routine for him - he usually goes on autopilot. Yet now he finds himself fighting to keep from looking up at her. He wants to see her face, meet her eye. He can’t explain it.

  
  


\----

 

A moment passes before she can process what her eyes see. When she does, she has to stop herself from whipping around again. She’s trained better than that, but every fiber of her being aches to look back. To see if she really did see what she thought. 

 

But she couldn’t have. 

 

Her heart is pounding, she can hear it echo in her ears. Her chest is tight, and a dangerous feeling, something like hope, rises in her. Yet her face stays facing forward, steps even. 

 

A glimpse, that’s all it was, but she’s convinced that’s all it would take for her to recognize him. She saw the sharp line of his jaw, the stubble shading it. She saw his mouth, taut even when casual, and his deep brown eyes unfocused, unreadable. 

 

But it couldn’t have been. It couldn’t have been Cassian. 

 

He’s dead. 

 

She forces herself to think the words. To repeat them over and over. 

 

Cassian Andor is dead. 

 

But maybe he isn’t. 

 

A new voice overpowers the old. She’s survived, he could have too, she thinks again. He’d done it before, she reminds herself. The image is clear in her mind. Cassian, ragged and broken, blaster in hand, standing over the Imperial officer, a soft smile pulling at one corner of his mouth, the bright blue sky a halo around him as the smoke from the battle cast him in a hazy light. She had thought he was dead then too, but he had clawed his way back to her. She has faith that he might be doing the same right now. That if she turned, she would see him standing there once again, still looking as beautiful as anyone she’d ever known. 

 

She takes a deep breath, clenching her fists until her knuckles go white under her gloves. She has to actively fight the urge to look back. Whether it’s Cassian or not - and it's probably not, she reminds herself - she needs to focus. Her job is to get this person out to safety after everything he’s given to the Rebellion. No matter who it is, he deserves her best. 

 

So she pushes it all down, the anxiety, the wondering, the hope.  _ Deal with it later, _ she tells herself,  _ you’re good at that. Right now you have to focus.  _

 

She does mostly.

 

A few times she catches herself trying to look back. It’s unconscious, she’s drawn to him, her body seeming to turn naturally in his direction. She manages to restrain herself to peripheral glances to make sure he’s keeping up with her. 

 

Each step adds to her frustration. The walk to the pick up site stretches out before her, every move she makes taking her away from the point that calls to her. 

 

Finally, they reach the site. She hits her comm, signaling the ship that they’re ready for pick up. Her operative steps up beside her. They’re mostly in the clear now, on the edge of town with pick up maybe a minute away. She gives in then. 

 

She turns just slightly to look up at him. He’s still facing forward, looking ahead and not at her. Through the frayed blue edges of her scarf she can see him. And it is him. It is the sharp lines of his face, it is his furrowed brow, it is his focused eyes. It is Cassian. 

 

It’s him, it’s him, it’s him. 

 

Her mind blanks. She can’t accept what she’s seeing. The light of the two suns illuminate him, as if this world revolved around him instead. In this moment,  _ her _ world does. The sounds of the city go silent behind them, the shouts of merchants and thudding of feet on pavement replaced by a static silence, a whooshing in her ears. She focuses in on the sound of his breathing.  _ He’s breathing _ , she thinks,  _ he’s alive. _

 

A moment of stillness, and then it all comes crashing down on her. The joy, the relief, it’s all enough to overpower her. Her hands shake, her body not sure how to process it. So many questions fill her mind, she has so much she wants to tell him. But Jyn has never been good with words. Instead she settles for just one. 

 

“Cassian.”

 

Quiet, breathless. She whispers it, both out of concern for their safety on this mission and fear that even now she may somehow be wrong. 

 

She’s not.

 

He hears her. 

  
  


\----

 

At a spot just past the edge of the city, she finally stops, where he assumes the extraction point must be. Her scarf whips in the wind that blows freely now that they’re no longer sheltered by the tall buildings. They’re mostly out of danger, but he should still be cautious. His feet ignore his mind, taking the steps necessary to come up by her side. He feels that pull again, drawing him ever closer to her. 

 

From the corner of his eye, he sees her turn her head just slightly to look at him. Her face is still obscured by the ocean of the scarf, robbing him of the view she’s managed to sneak. 

 

Beside him she stiffens. Something about him has set her off. He stares straight forward, trying to think of what it could be. 

 

A sudden breath is drawn ragged through her mouth, as if she’s been holding it without realizing. And then so quiet he almost misses it. 

 

“Cassian.”

 

It’s spoken not as a question, but as if an answer to a prayer. It’s reverent, relief flowing through each syllable. 

 

He’s heard his name in that voice only twice before. Each time, in concern and fear. He has never heard this infliction applied to it. Still, he knows it. 

 

Cassian turns to her. And it is her. It is the soft, round edges of her face. It is her bright green eyes framed by smudges of kohl. Impossibly, it is Jyn. 

 

He’s unprepared for the feeling of relief and joy that overcomes him. It fills him, threatens to burst out from him. He never had any reason to believe she could have survived. His mind reels, questions burning as he tries to reconcile his last memories of her and the dreams he’s had since then with the current moment of her standing, solid and real, in front of him. 

 

Something in his mind doubts her presence, tries to find another solution. Something stronger still accepts her survival as the truth he knows it is. He cannot explain it, but in this moment he finds he doesn’t need to. 

 

Cassian Andor has always been a man of hope. 

 

“Jyn” 

 

The sound is an echo of one he’s made many times before, in worry and adoration. He’s said it since then, but the sound rang hollow when it wasn’t addressed to her. Now that it’s once again directed to its owner, it takes on a new depth. The sound rings out to her, and also deep inside of him, latching to his being. 

 

It’s silent for a moment. A pause after they’ve spoken each other’s names. 

 

His eyes meet hers, seeing the same confusion and relief he feels mirrored in her own eyes. They’re both fighting denial, he realizes, trying to process how the other is alive. 

 

Then the moment is gone, and all distance between them is as well. Cassian doesn’t remember taking the steps, or seeing her take them, but somehow they are in each other’s arm. 

 

They fit perfectly, as they had last time. Perhaps more so now, no regrets or lost futures between them. Her head rests on his shoulder, his tucks into the crook of her neck. Her arms wrap tightly around him, his hands clutch at her back. The burns on their chests match up, her kyber crystal in between, as their heartbeats find the same rhythm. 

 

As with the first time they embraced, they have no intention of letting go. But the sounds of the transport ship drag them back to the world around them. They pull apart, but they stay just inches from each other. Small smiles of understanding tug on their faces as they refocus back on the mission at hand. Cassian does not know the two-member crew that picks them up, and Jyn speaks to them in a friendly tone, but with no familiarity. They retreat to the cockpit after a basic debrief, leaving Cassian and Jyn alone in the main hull. They don’t speak, not yet. Now is not the time, but they’ll make time soon enough. Instead they sit next to each other, pressed along each other’s side, the pressure of the other’s body an assurance that they are still there, breathing and alive.  

  
  


\------

  
  


When they make it back to base, Cassian is immediately called for a debrief with Draven. It’s standard procedure after any undercover operation, but for the first time Cassian hesitates.

He turns to Jyn, and his face is tight with concern. A part of him is worried she’s going to disappear. 

 

“This will take a while,” he sighs. “But will you wait, for me?” 

 

She smiles and nods. She’s not going anywhere. She’s too worried he’ll disappear too. 

 

He reaches out, his knuckles brushing against hers before grabbing her hand quickly and squeezing it. A promise. 

  
  


Jyn has her own debrief, a quick one considering how little she actually had to do on this mission. She’s given orders to report the next day for a new assignment. And then she’s left to kill time waiting for Cassian, with far too many thoughts in her head. 

 

She checks in with the quartermaster to get her bunk assignment. No one has permanent rooms since the Yavin IV base was evacuated. She thinks about going to her room, trying to sleep maybe, but sleep would elude her. Instead she finds herself wandering the halls trying to process the last few hours. Her mind courses with a flurry of emotions - relief, wonder, resentment, but she walks with steady steps. 

 

Cassian finds her on what must be her tenth lap around the base. She brightens, a tension she had not realized was there easing at the sight of him. He smiles back at her and tilts his head in the opposite direction down the hallway. She follows him to what she assumes are his assigned quarters. He opens the door, steps aside to let her in before following behind her. The room is basically empty, no more personal items have found their way in since she last snooped through his belongings on Yavin IV. 

 

Moving past her further into the room, he turns to look at her. They’re silent for a moment, both of them trying to figure out where to start. It’s ridiculous really, Jyn realizes. All this time, and they’ve been fighting in the same rebellion, both alive thinking the other was dead. She wonders why no one had ever told her, but how could they have known he meant anything to her. It makes sense that they never ran into each other with the Alliance spread across the galaxy. Still, she feels like they should have found each other before now. She wonders how many near misses there were, her arriving on base just minutes after he left for a mission. The thought makes her laugh, with an edge of bitterness to it. 

 

Cassian smiles at the sound and shakes his head, as if he can read her thoughts on her face. His eyes meet hers, and she could drown in the emotion in them. 

 

“How?” she asks him finally. She doesn’t elaborate, but he understands.

 

“That’s what I was going to ask you,” he says, exhaling. “I don’t know how we survived the blast. I don’t know if I care. But after, Bodhi picked me up and --”

 

“Bodhi?” Jyn exclaims, eyes wide, voice full of hope. “He made it too?”

 

“Yeah, yeah he did,” Cassian responds quickly. “You haven’t seen him?”

 

“No, I haven’t spent much time on any base,” she mutters offhand. “But Bodhi’s okay?” she pushes forward. “He’s.. he’s alright?”

 

“He dealt with some shrapnel wounds when we first got back, but a few bacta treatments fixed him up just fine,” he smiles fondly. “They gave him a medal for bravery. He’s leading an X-wing squadron now.” 

 

Jyn beams at that. If anyone deserves a medal, it’s Bodhi. She’d never met someone so brave and yet so unsure of himself. Bodhi was the one who had started all this. Bodhi brought her father’s message, ensured the data transfer was delivered. A swell of affection rises in her, she’s proud of him, as if he really were her family. He is, she realizes. 

 

Absorbed by the happiness of Bodhi’s survival, it takes her a while to recognize the look on Cassian’s face. His lips are pressed tightly in a hard line, eyes down. 

 

“Jyn,” he breathes. “What happened to you? Bodhi said he couldn’t find you after the blast, and he was the only rebel ship…” 

 

His voice trails off, and he knows he’s answered his own question. The only  _ rebel  _ ship. Jyn looks at the floor, just for a second, but long enough to confirm it. 

 

“You were captured.” It’s not a question. He sighs, his eyes closing. “How long?”

 

“Maybe a month.” She’s trying to sounds casual, but Cassian’s face tightens in pain, his fingers gripping the bridge of his nose. 

 

“But I’m fine now, Cassian,” she adds earnestly, stepping forward and reaching out to grip his forearm. 

 

“They came for you? They got you out?”

 

Her arm drops and she hesitates, answers with a half truth. 

 

“They got me out.”

 

They hadn’t gone searching for her then, he realizes. Of course they hadn’t. He didn’t know she was alive, how could anyone else? And even if they had, he knew the Alliance probably wouldn’t have been able to expend the resources necessary to save one rebel. He understands it, logically of course. This fight is bigger than just one person. But not for him, not completely, not anymore. A certainty grips him, that if he had known he would have gone after her himself. 

 

He should have known. As they had raced towards Scarif, he had been struck by the new resolve that had rooted inside her, strengthening her from someone who always expected a fight to someone willing to wage battle. The notion had illuminated her, making her seem as if she could never die. And yet he had never questioned her death. He should have considered the possibility. He shouldn’t have given up on her so quickly. 

 

His head drops, but he forces himself to look up at her. 

 

“I’m sorry Jyn,” he murmurs. Her forehead creases, like she couldn’t possibly understand why he’s apologizing.

 

“I’m sorry I left you.”

 

“Cassian,” she sighs. “You didn’t.” She laughs again, this time with no bitterness, and he thinks he could get used to the sound. “It took a Death Star to pull us apart. That’s not on you.” 

 

He smiles a little, but he’s reserved again. She knows the look. He’s in his own head, mask up to hide whatever he’s trying to think through. She lets it run its course. 

 

Cassian’s eyes meet hers, searching for something in the sea of green. Time and time again, he had been struck by the terrible need he found there. Now it was gone, not as it had been on Jedha, replaced by a hollow emptiness. No, now that need was filled with something whole, with a drive of her own making, not Saw’s or her father’s, and a fierceness that belonged to Jyn Erso rather than Lianna Hallik. 

 

Finally, he sighs and his face softens. He’s not sure what the right words are, but he trusts Jyn will understand them. 

 

“I haven’t done this much before,” he admits to her, pauses. “Cared about someone like this.” 

 

She nods, and he can see on her face that she does understand. She hasn’t done this much either. 

 

“It’s dangerous,” she agrees. 

 

And it is, they both know it. It’s dangerous to have someone to lose in this galaxy that takes so much, that has already taken everyone else they have cared for. 

 

But Jyn does care for him. She can’t deny it, can’t push it down into her cave. She tried that with her father, with Saw. She thought it would protect her from pain. But it didn’t. For all she had denied her connections to them, it still did not lessen the agony when she lost them. Something inside her says Cassian would be the same. That even if she tried to deny how much she felt for him, tried to go on merely as a friend and fellow soldier, attempted to protect herself from the very real chance that she could lose him - she still would hurt all the same if she did. Perhaps more so, regretting the time they could have had. The better choice, she decides, is to appreciate it. To take each day they could together because the loss would hurt no matter how close they allowed themselves to get. The last couple months had already proved that. 

 

“I think it’s worth it,” she tells him. 

 

Her face is set in hard lines, eyes ablaze. Her fire burns any doubts he might have had, though he didn't have many. He knew what it is like to lose her, to ache for more time with her. He’d take every moment he could get, whatever the end might be.  _ Besides _ , he thinks in a moment of rash optimism,  _ maybe we won’t lose each other.  _

 

“I think you’re right,” he murmurs. 

 

Little space remains between them, and now he slowly closes the last few inches of it. His right  hand cups her face while the other curls around her hip and pulls her near. His lips find hers, soft at first but growing hungrier with each moment of contact. She splays her fingers along his side, gripping tightly and leaning up on her toes to deepen the kiss. She takes a step back, and he continues the motion until she is pressed against the wall. 

 

For a moment, she thinks she should say more. Find the words to tell him how often she’s thought about him since Scarif, to describe how much she missed him. But they are both people of action. So instead she lets her mouth, her hands, the press of her body against him convey all she has to say. He gets the message. 

  
  


\---- 

 

They’re walking through the hangar on the way to breakfast when she hears her name shouted across the expanse, full of shock and elation.  

 

She turns to see her pilot, face bright with giddy laughter, jumping from his X-wing and dropping his helmet to sprint towards her. She barely has time to smile in response before Bodhi pulls her into a tight embrace, his head burying into her neck. 

 

He’s as she imagined in her indulgent thoughts of his survival. He carries himself differently, more assured. She had seen a glimpse of this comfortable Bodhi in the cockpit of their stolen cargo shuttle. Now, he wore the confidence on solid ground as well, walking through the base as his home. The image is a striking transformation from the last time she saw him in an Alliance hangar, when his eyes had darted around as he stuck close to her. 

 

Guilt flashes across his face as she explains her survival, and she does her best to assuage it. He nods and the weight clears somewhat from his transparent features. He joins them for breakfast, and she smiles as she sits beside Cassian and watches Bodhi chat with friends and fellow rebels. He has finally found the welcome he deserved. Though he laughs and grins at her through the meal, she sees the remnants of blame in his wide guileless eyes. 

 

Later, when she finds a moment alone with him, she’s finally able to lift the feeling from him. With a fervor in her eyes, she grips his hand tightly. 

 

“Thank you, Bodhi,” she tells him fiercely. “For saving him, and yourself. I thought I lost you all.” 

 

She didn’t, and she never does. 

  
The war continues on and they continue to fight. The pilot, the spy and the rebel. Though they’re not always together, they’re never alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for an epilogue of sorts.  
> Also, come yell about rebelcaptain at me on my tumblr [rebsrising](https://rebsrising.tumblr.com/)


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the war, on the desolate planet of Jakku, Jyn finds everything she's been looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all seemed to enjoy the last two reunions so I figured I'd write some more. Enjoy!

Wild winds whip sand across her face, burning her as acutely as the sun above. Jyn does not care. She does not care about the rash on her skin or the blaster wound at her hip or the gritty taste in her mouth. None of it matters because it is over, the battle, the war, the rebellion. The fighting is done and she has only one thing left to do — find him. 

She trudges her way towards the makeshift base camp, weaving through straggles of soldiers, too thin, so many gone after the battle. Even the final victory had its cost. 

Something in her stomach begins to tug at her, a weight pulling her already weary body closer to the ground. It’s an old fear that she has never been able to fully shake — that he could be gone, that he could have left her. But just as soon as the worry begins to rise, she feels a calm settle around her. 

On the wind a voice floats to her, full of the same gentle humor that first drew her in.

“As I said, the strongest stars have hearts of kyber.”

She turns to see Chirrut smiling at her amid the blinding brightness of Jakku. His black robes whirl around his feet as he steps towards her, chin up and staff out in front of him. 

“That’s how you’re both here today,” he continues. 

Jyn laughs, taking quick steps toward him until she can finally grasp his hand. Cassian told her Chirrut and Baze survived, but by the time she was home they were gone. She thought she’d never see them again, but Chirrut seems unsurprised. 

“What do you mean?” she asks, confused by his statement but knowing she won’t likely get an answer.

“All is as the Force wills it.” They’re Chirrut’s words but not his voice. Instead the quiet rumble comes from Baze, face smiling softly as he steps up behind his husband to put a hand on Jyn’s shoulder. 

For a moment Jyn’s head clouds as she attempts to make sense of the guardians’ words, but she’s learned quickly that when it comes to them her mind doesn’t need to fully understand. Her chest warms with the happiness in her heart, and she feels a different heat as her necklace presses softly against her skin. She reaches up for it, gripping loosely as she turns to look around again, searching for the face etched into her mind. 

“Don’t worry, little sister,” Baze squeezes her shoulder reassuringly before letting go. 

“He’s already on his way back to you,” Chirrut nods in the opposite direction. Whipping her head that way, she finally sees him. 

Cassian has already spotted her, and his eyes latch onto hers as soon as she turns. The soldiers between them disappear, turning to blurred obstacles to maneuver around in order to get to each other. Finally their outstretched hands grasp one another, each pulling the other in firmly until they meet in the middle. 

Small smiles pull at their lips before they’re too buried in each other to see any more. Her arms ache from the weight of the blaster she’s carried but they still move effortlessly up finding their home around his neck as her face nuzzles in his chest. His warmth encircles her as his arms loop around her waist, bringing her closer still. They cling tightly, desperately to one another, feeling the other’s heart beat fast and strong against their own chests. It’s an ending they never thought they’d see. A future they had never dared to dream about. The world is quiet around them as they process their own unexpected survivals, feeling the future and all its possibilities wrap around them. 

Their friends are unfazed by the moment the unfurls between them. 

“Good to see you pilot,” Baze calls out around them, dragging a dusty but uninjured Bodhi over to the group, an arm tight around his shoulder. The pilot’s eyes widen slightly as the large calloused hand reaches out, but he smiles easily as it clasps around him, leaning into the embrace. 

Next to them, a rebel soldier worms past Jyn and Cassian, still tangled together as one, and scoffs in their direction. 

“Do they realize they’re surrounded by an entire army?”

Baze glares at the young man, but Bodhi just smiles, ignoring the tone. 

“No they don’t.” Bodhi’s witnessed many of these moments between Jyn and Cassian over the last couple years, and knows it is just part of who they are together. He often wonders how others can’t see it the way he does, see beyond whatever awkwardness is on the outside to the depth of emotion expressed within. Others may scoff, but he laughs, light and cheerful. 

The sound carries on the wind, bringing new grins to Jyn and Cassian’s faces as they pull apart. Jyn steps away from Cassian, only slightly, his hand still on her back, to move towards Bodhi. She grins up at him as her hands grasp either side of his face to drag him down to her level. As soon as he’s close enough, she plants a kiss on the top of his forehead. 

“Glad to see you’re safe too Bodhi,” she says. “I was worried you might do something stupid and heroic.”

“No, that sounds more like you, Jyn.” He gets an elbow to the gut for that, but he knows it’s far more gentle than it could be. 

“Is it over then? I mean really over?” Bodhi asks, eyes wide and voice just a little shaky. 

“Yeah, Bodhi,” Cassian responds, throwing an arm over his shoulder so that it overlaps with Baze. “It’s over.”

“So we go home now, right?” his voice is more sure now. 

“Right,” Jyn smiles at him. But she looks around at the men beside her — the ones who fought by her side when she thought she had lost everything, the ones she has come to love as her family — and she knows she’s already home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I've officially finished a full multi-chapter fic! Thank you all so much for staying with me on this. The support has been amazing!
> 
> As always, feel free to come talk to me on tumblr at [rebsrising](https://rebsrising.tumblr.com/). I'm going to need some new fic ideas so send me whatever you've got!


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